


Ordeal

by karenmcfadyyon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenmcfadyyon/pseuds/karenmcfadyyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard seldom listened to Rodney</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordeal

Ordeal

John Sheppard seldom listened to Rodney, except about science. Rodney knew that, and it was mildly irritating, but it was all part of who John Sheppard was. That knowledge didn't prevent him from the use of sarcasm, but hey, that was all a part of who Rodney McKay was, so they were even.

In this instance, John Sheppard didn't listen when Rodney explained why he was going into the forest behind the Steven Spielberg temple, and therefore, John Sheppard didn't know he was there and not in the temple.

Evidently, Sheppard had taken exception to his absence during the final discussions with the headwoman and sent Ford out to look for him, thus precipitating a disaster.

The first Rodney knew of the disaster was when he came around the temple and found Teyla talking earnestly to a delegation of the planet's natives while Sheppard glowered from behind her.

"What's going on?" he asked, coming up behind Sheppard. "Where's Ford?"

"I guess you could say he's been arrested." Sheppard continued to glower. "Teyla's trying to get him freed."

"Arrested? For what?" Rodney frowned.

"I sent him into that—" Sheppard lifted his chin at the temple. "The priest in charge took serious offense."

"Serious offense as in?"

"As in they want to whip Ford."

"What?" Rodney processed Sheppard's expression. "We can't let that happen, right?"

"Right." Sheppard nodded, looked a little less tense. "But there are a lot of innocent noncombatants in this village, and I really don't like killing noncombatants. Although I could make an exception for this fucker." He lifted his chin toward the tallest man in the group of natives who was arguing bitterly with Teyla.

"I take it that's the priest in charge. Where's Ford?" Rodney craned his head, but didn't see any sign of the lieutenant.

"Inside the temple at the moment."

"I thought Teyla said that woman was their leader."

"Yeah, but this guy's in charge of the temple." Sheppard glanced at him. "So, I'm trading myself for Ford, since I ordered him to go in."

Rodney stared. "Are you nuts?"

"I'm not killing these people over something we did by mistake." Sheppard's tone brooked no disagreement.

He disagreed anyway. "Are you nuts? I'm not going to let this happen, do you know what a whipping can do to you? And how many lashes, anyway?"

"I'm not arguing with you, McKay, it's done, Teyla's trying to convince that bastard."

"Major, this is insane. Where's their leader, that woman, we need to talk to her."

"Teyla already did, Rodney, and she said she couldn't interfere." Sheppard was irritated. "And don't second guess me, okay? It's not like I'm all turned on about getting whipped, believe me, but this isn't Ford's fault, and I don't know why, that asshole has a real hard-on for Ford, I don't trust him not to do Ford any damage. Me, I don't think he cares one way or another, I think I'll be okay."

"I think you've lost your goddamn mind," Rodney said.

Sheppard glared at him. "Rodney, shut the fuck up."

Sheppard didn't know what he was talking about, he couldn't possibly know. Rodney felt queasy just remembering what he knew, what he'd seen and what he sure as hell didn't want to have happen to either Aiden Ford or John Sheppard, now matter how surly and obnoxious Sheppard got. "Major, do you have even the vaguest idea what he means by whipping? I somehow don't think he's going to take off his belt and hit you with it. I think it's probably going to entail a whip, possibly with multiple strips, and very possibly with bits of metal or bone on the ends of those strips to do the most damage."

Sheppard glared at him. "And I should let that happen to Ford?"

"Did I say you should? Jesus, of course not. Not to either of you."

Sheppard's expression softened. "Look, Rodney, we already tried talking to their, well, queen or whatever the fuck she is. She said this is a religious matter and she is limited in what she can do. They have serious rules about not killing anyone with this, so the worst thing is going to be pain. I'm not crazy about that, but dammit, if my choice is shooting a bunch of somewhat primitive natives, most of whom are unarmed, and dealing with pain, I can tell you what I'm taking." He swallowed hard and looked away, and for the first time, Rodney wondered if this had something to do with what had happened when the Genii had invaded.

He couldn't think about that now, though, this wasn't an argument that could wait. "No, this isn't going to work for me." Rodney started forward for Teyla, and Sheppard's arm shot out, Sheppard grabbed his collar and yanked him back.

"Rodney, I'm not asking you, I'm ordering you to shut up and stay out of it." Really angry now.

"You really don't know what you're doing," Rodney said, sweating. "You really don't. Do you know what happens to the human body when it's flogged? The kidneys are really vulnerable, Major, because there's no bony rib cage to protect them. The lungs—if the flogging is vicious enough, not just the lungs, but everything in the thoracic cavity—"

"McKay!" Entirely furious, and he thought he saw a flicker of fear. "I don't need this, this is hard enough, goddammit."

He shut up. For a moment. "Teyla needs to talk to the headwoman or whatever she is. She needs to be made to understand how dangerous this is."

"Rodney, this is their law!"

"When has that stopped us from interfering?" He looked around when Teyla's voice stopped. The priest was calling out loudly and two men armed with very ugly swords were bringing Ford out and down the steps.

Teyla, looking no happier than he felt, came back toward them. "We must go to their amphitheatre, the Lieutenant will be released there."

Sheppard keyed his radio. "Markham, Stackhouse, meet us at the amphitheatre in the center of the village."

"Teyla, this is insane. How many lashes did the priest order?" Rodney was still sweating.

"They have not said, McKay."

Rodney looked at Ford, who had apparently been roughed up, probably because of his own compunction about shooting the unarmed.

Dammit.

Rodney followed Sheppard. "Teyla, you have got to talk to the headwoman again."

"The Illan says that she may not interfere unless the whipping is dangerous." Teyla glanced at Rodney. "Major, I do not think Lieutenant Ford will be pleased."

"I don't blame the lieutenant," Rodney said sharply. "Major, will you for God's sake listen for once instead of charging ahead blindly?"

Sheppard didn't stop, but he did give him a brief furious look.

"McKay is not wrong, Major." Teyla said, hurrying to match Sheppard's strides. "Remember, I said Dr. Weir is not the only one with the problem of committing to a solution too soon."

Rodney winced at that, and Sheppard gave her the same look he'd given Rodney a moment or so earlier. "Teyla, if you can come up with a solution that doesn't involve fighting our way out, I'd be glad to hear it."

"If you give me more time to talk with the priest," she began, but Sheppard gestured.

"Teyla, we already tried that, he didn't want to listen to you at all at first, did he? It was only because of, uh, the Illan that he listened at all."

"This is such a very, very, very bad idea, Major," Rodney said and then they were nearing the amphitheatre and Markham and Stackhouse came forward to meet them.

"I need you to take Lieutenant Ford to the jumper," Sheppard said, "Under guard. Do not under any circumstances allow him to interfere no matter what."

"Yes, sir." Markham looked over at Ford, who was swaying a little. "He doesn't look so good, sir."

"No, he doesn't." Sheppard gave Rodney a meaningful look. "McKay, you go with them."

"No." Rodney figuratively and literally dug his heels in.

Sheppard scowled at him. "Teyla, you, too."

"Teyla can go with him, but she needs to bring the medical kit back," Rodney said flatly. "Because believe me, if you're insane enough to do this, you'll need it. We'll need it."

Sheppard was silent for a moment, swallowed hard, and nodded. He gave his P-90 to Markham. "You'll need to take that. And this." He took off his holster.

"Sir," Stackhouse said warily, "What's going on."

" I gave Lieutenant Ford an order, and he followed it, and it broke their laws against blasphemy." Sheppard eyed the people streaming into the amphitheatre. "So, anyway, instead of him getting whipped, I'm going to get whipped."

The two Marines looked at each other. "Sir, I don't think that's such a good idea," Markham said.

"Thank you, another voice of reason," Rodney said. "Major, this is a very, very, very bad idea. Not only does it set a really terrible precedent for our dealings on this world, it's going to hurt like hell, and by the way, let's not forget about bleeding, shall we? Blood, lots and lots of blood."

"Rodney!" For a moment, it looked like Sheppard wanted to punch him. "You're not helping."

"I don't want to help this," Rodney snapped. "I want you to come to your sense and think clearly, Major!"

"I am thinking clearly!" Except for the shouting part, he had to admit Sheppard sounded sane enough. "It's not going to kill me."

"You hope!" Rodney looked at Teyla. "Find out just how many lashes we're talking about, please. Really. Because I know about how many the average human being can take without permanent damage."

Teyla's eyes widened and she hurried over to where the Illan had seated herself to observe the punishment of the blasphemous.

God, Rodney hated religion.

Ford's guards gave him a nudge forward and he started toward them, his expression worried. When he got close enough, he said, "Major, where are your weapons?"

Sheppard jerked a thumb at Markham. "Lieutenant, I want you to listen carefully. I am sending you back to the jumper with Markham and Stackhouse and you're to stay there until McKay and I return."

"And Teyla," Rodney said grimly.

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Yes, and Teyla."

"What's going on, sir?" Ford looked at the other two, took it in and said, "Oh, no way, sir. No way. This isn't going to happen."

"Lieutenant!" Sheppard's voice was deadly. "I'm not asking, I'm giving you an order. Do not fuck with me, because I'm not in the mood. Get your ass to that jumper and stay there, don't pass go, don't look back, just get your ass to the jumper. If you so much as twitch on the way, or once you're there, I'm ordering Markham to shoot you in the leg to incapacitate you, you got that?"

Ford's eyes were wide with shock. "Sir, this isn't right."

"Lieutenant!" Sheppard leaned forward. "I gave you an order, I expect you to obey that order."

Ford closed his mouth. "Sir, yes, sir." Faintly.

Sheppard looked at Markham. "Take him. And you two stay there, too. I don't want any one of these people hurt, do you understand."

"Yes, sir." Markham and Stackhouse said in unison and then exchanged a look. "Lieutenant?"

"Major, don't do this," Ford said quietly. "Please. I'm the one who—"

Sheppard looked at him and Ford shut up. Went quietly with his escort.

Teyla trotted back, looking…appalled. "Major, the sentence is seventy lashes."

"Dear God," Rodney said and felt even queasier. "No, you can't do this, Major."

"Rodney, one more word, I swear, I'll shoot you myself."

"With what?" Rodney demanded. "You gave your weapons to Markham!"

Without even pausing, Sheppard said, "Teyla's gun, that's with what."

Looking at Sheppard, Rodney could almost believe it. "Teyla, you need to get the medical kit now. We'll need it."

Teyla glanced between them. "I will return in a few moments," she said and ran.

"You're insane," Rodney said softly.

Sheppard looked away for a moment. "I'm making the best choice I can." A little less furious, at least.

The two guards came up to them and said something in their own language, one of them reaching out to tug on Sheppard's vest and shirt.

"Okay." Sheppard's jaw twitched. "Okay, Rodney, either you or Markham will probably have to fly back, I don't think I'm going to be up to it." He took off his vest and handed it to Rodney. "I'm counting on you to keep Ford cool headed if Markham and Stackhouse can't. He's just a kid, I don't want him doing anything to hurt any of these people, and I don't want him to get hurt or killed. I don't want you doing anything to hurt any of these people, and I don't want you getting hurt or killed, either, so you've got to promise me you won't."

The man was certifiable. "I can't," he said, "Major, I can't—"

"Rodney." Sheppard stared at him, no sign of anger and there was that flicker of dread again. "Promise me."

Oh, Christ. "I promise."

Sheppard relaxed slightly. "Thanks."

Rodney was terrible at convincing people and Sheppard was so damned pigheaded sometimes, and God, he couldn't stand this, he really couldn't. He couldn't stand to think of this happening. "As for Ford, I'm not sure it's possible for me to keep Ford coolheaded, I'm not even sure I can keep myself coolheaded." Rodney was nearly numb. "Major, this is insane, you need to have Teyla try talking to the Illan again."

"You saw how well that worked," Sheppard said flatly and peeled off his shirt. His skin was pale from the long Atlantis winter, too many hours flying or under artificial light "Believe me, I'm not a masochist, but I also can't let them hurt Ford. He's under my command and technically, that makes me responsible." He stared fixedly at his shirt. "I'm not killing these people."

"Do you know what seventy lashes is going to do to you?" Even Rodney's lips felt numb. "I'm not trying to make this harder, I'm asking you if you have the faintest idea what you're letting yourself suffer."

Sheppard looked over at the priest, who stood by holding a very ugly whip. At least it was a single lash, not multiple strips. "No, but I've got a good imagination." Very softly. "Look, I know it's going to be bad, but it's not going to kill me. Given the way that bastard went after Ford, I can't say the same if he's the one getting flogged, can you?"

"No." Rodney couldn't. "But I don't think he's fond of you, either, Major. And this, this could kill you."

"I don't believe that," Sheppard said and put a hand on his wrist, shook at him. "Just--just keep everybody calm, Rodney. It's going to be okay."

In what universe, Rodney thought, but didn't say it. Any attempt to protest would only make things harder on Sheppard. He'd seen the minute tremor of Sheppard's hands, felt it in his grip.

There was a huge wooden X in the center of the amphitheatre. The two guards walked Sheppard over to it, drew Sheppard's hands through the shackles that hung from the upper arms of the X, fastened them. His feet were likewise drawn one at a time through shackles on the bottom of the X, making any movement almost impossible.

Rodney's stomach rolled over unpleasantly and he swallowed bile. He couldn't watch this, he couldn't stop it and it was going to kill him.

Teyla returned then, carrying the medical kit. "Lieutenant Ford has agreed to stay in the jumper," she said softly. "But I told Sgt Stackhouse and Sgt Markham of the major's orders in the event that he should again become distraught."

Rodney nodded, folded Sheppard's shirt, more to avoid watching the priest approach Sheppard than anything else. "Teyla, go back to the priestess and talk to her. I don't care what you tell her; just tell her something that will stop this. Otherwise, it's entirely possible that John Sheppard will die."

Teyla's eyes widened. "They say it is not to cause death."

"I know what flogging can do." Rodney gave her a level look. "I had a friend who was flogged in Saudi Arabia. His kidneys were both damaged and he later died. And that was fifty strokes of the lash. As little as forty lashes can kill a man. "

She nodded, clearly shaken. "I will do my best, Dr. McKay."

Rodney turned his head involuntarily at the sound of the whip. The metal tipped leather had torn into Sheppard's shoulder, leaving a wound, and the leather itself had left a livid mark. He couldn't believe Sheppard hadn't cried out.

From what Rodney could see of the priest's expression, neither could he.

The whip cracked again. That was two. Twice more, that was four. By ten, Sheppard's back was crosshatched with torn, bleeding flesh. By fifteen, there didn't appear to be any unmarked skin. Every four or five strokes, one of the guards near would advance on Sheppard, take hold of his head and turn his head to hold a vial beneath his nose.

They wanted, Rodney thought, to make sure Sheppard was conscious for all of it. He felt weirdly detached from his own body, from his own mind. He was standing there watching someone he cared about bleed, and he was numb.

By twenty, the whip was tearing flesh already torn, and Sheppard still hadn't cried out. Rodney, however, found he'd unfastened his holster and put his hand on the butt of his gun. But he'd told Sheppard he wouldn't. He'd promised, damn the man.

He was close to losing any ability to keep that promise when suddenly, at the twenty-fifth stroke, the Illan stood up and shouted something out at the priest as he raised the whip again.

The priest lowered the whip and went to the dais. An argument began, and Rodney waited.

"Oh, Jesus God." Ford's voice, very close.

Rodney turned, saw Markham had escorted Ford, who was unarmed. "Keep your mouth shut," he hissed. "I think Teyla's done some good, they stopped at twenty-five. Don't blow it."

Ford closed his mouth.

After another moment of argument, the priest threw the whip down and stalked out of the arena. The guards knelt to unfasten the shackles around Sheppard's ankles, then rose to free his wrists, both of them holding him up as they turned him around.

Sheppard's head flopped backward and one of them grabbed his hair while the other held that vial under his nose again. Sheppard shuddered and swayed, but he was conscious; despite their support, he slumped to his knees, leaned forward and vomited.

Rodney ran, with Ford on his heels.

Sheppard tried to push himself back up, fended off the two men, but let Rodney help him sink back on his heels. His face was wet, and Rodney couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears or both. He fumbled the medical kit open once Ford knelt and held Sheppard up, found the morphine that Beckett had started including in the medical kits. He didn't dare give the dose marked as recommended, not with shock a real threat, but he did risk half the marked dose. "Easy, Major, that should help soon."

Sheppard's gaze was unfocused. "Sick," he said hoarsely and Rodney held on when Sheppard leaned over and retched, this time bringing up bile.

Traumatic shock, Rodney thought, terrified. "We need to get him back," he told Ford.

Teyla was there, suddenly and Markham and Stackhouse. "The healer is coming."

"Fuck their healer," Ford said fiercely. "We just need a stretcher, he can't walk. And we need blankets, he's in shock."

"Thirsty," Sheppard said, and his gaze wandered over to the whip. "No more."

"No more," Rodney said fiercely and pulled his canteen free. "Here, Major, just drink slowly, little bit at a time."

Sheppard made a faint sound and swallowed when Rodney held the canteen up. Swallowed again and then again, and then four Hekke brought a stretcher, some kind of hide stretched over parallel wooden rods.

"John, that's all I dare give you," Rodney murmured and took the canteen away. He used his sleeve to wipe Sheppard's face. Sweat, certainly, and maybe tears, too. He knew the results of flogging, knew them from the reading he'd done after Douglas had died. "Can you feel the morphine yet?"

"Think so." Sheppard swayed slightly.

"Let's move him," Rodney told Ford, who nodded.

Teyla spoke sharply to the Hekke who put the stretcher down on the ground.

"On three," Ford said softly, "Ready, Major?"

"Sure."

"One," Ford said, "Two. Three."

They both lifted, and Sheppard's eyes rolled back, he went limp; they half-carried, half-dragged him to the stretcher and laid him down carefully. Jesus, his back was a bloody mess. One of the Hekke priestesses arrived with a dripping cloth.

"Get away from him," Rodney said through his teeth.

"They say it will stop the bleeding," Teyla said, putting a hand out to Rodney. "Please, McKay, let them."

Rodney clenched his jaw, nodded, and the woman came forward, laid the cloth over Sheppard's back and arranged it. Another brought a wool blanket and offered it to Rodney, her expression worried.

Rodney took the blanket, reckoning that keeping Sheppard warm was going to be pretty fucking crucial. The blanket, and his jacket and Ford's jacket and Sheppard's own shirt and that was the best he could do for the moment. "We need to get his feet elevated once we get to the jumper."

Ford nodded. "Yeah, we do. And get Dr. Beckett on the radio."

Rodney looked at Markham and Stackhouse. "Let's go. As quick and careful as if you were carrying a naquadah generator, you hear?"

They both nodded grimly, and the four of them each took one end of the two rods and lifted. It still took too long to get to the jumper and Rodney was hideously afraid Sheppard wouldn't be breathing when they put the Hekke stretcher down in the back of the jumper. "Markham, you're flying us back," Rodney said. "Stackhouse, you get ready to dial up the gate and get Beckett as quickly as you can."

Teyla closed the hatch and set the medical kit down beside him as he reached under the blankets to check Sheppard's pulse. Quick and thready, but still there, thank God, and he was breathing. His eyelids lifted when Rodney lifted the blanket again. "Rod-ney?" Faintly.

"Easy, Major," Rodney said softly and winced. Maybe the Hekke remedy was supposed to stop the bleeding, but Sheppard's back was still bleeding and the center of the cloth was saturated. "Goddammit. Teyla, give me a hand."

Markham and Stackhouse were up front; he heard the jumper come to life, and was freshly grateful for the inertial dampeners. Ford propped the bottom half of the stretcher up with cushions from the jumper seats.

Teyla moved to the other side of the stretcher and began to peel the damp cloth away from Sheppard's back. Rodney touched Sheppard's cheek. "Stay with us, Major."

"'M here," Sheppard said blurrily. "S'okay, not so bad."

Thank God for morphine. Rodney took the other corner of the cloth and matched Teyla's motion, and then, God he could see why Sheppard was still bleeding, there was one wound that was deep, too deep. He fumbled for bandages, pressed down and Sheppard cried out. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, Major." *He* was sweating now. "We've got to stop the bleeding."

Sheppard's hands clenched into fists, then splayed out. "Uh huh." Gasped.

"I'm sorry," Rodney said again and the gauze under his fingertips was still saturating too quickly. He added another layer and pressed down, as evenly and carefully as he could.

"Rod-ney!" Sheppard's voice broke upward.

But the bleeding slowed, finally. "I'm sorry," he repeated, said it three times more and then Sheppard seemed to be able to breathe again. "I'm so goddamn sorry, Major."

"S'okay," Sheppard finally managed. "S'okay, Rodney." Forgiving Rodney, trying to reassure, even while he was in agony.

It killed him, it really did, and it wasn't just sweat on his face when Rodney swiped his own face with his sleeve. "Okay, it's stopping, Major, I'm going to try and ease up here in a minute."

Stackhouse came back to them, crouched. "Patching the doc through to you, Dr. McKay."

"Carson?" Rodney raised his head. "He's still bleeding."

"Rodney, is the blood bright red or dark red?"

It seemed like a stupid question until Rodney could wrap his mind about what Carson was really asking. "Most of it is dark red. The wound that won't stop is brighter."

"Keep gentle pressure on that. What's his pulse?"

Ford came around to the head of the stretcher, pressed his fingers gently to Sheppard's throat. "Fast, doc, I think it's about 140."

"How's his breathing."

"Shallow and fast," Rodney said, because he could feel it under his hand.

"Major, how are you doing?"

But Sheppard's eyes were half-closed again.

"I gave him half the dose of morphine marked on the injector," Rodney said, "I was afraid to give him more. He's lost blood, he's vomited, and he's thirsty, Carson."

"All right, you'll be here in just about three minutes. Keep the pressure on, keep him warm, and I'll be waiting in the bay."

"Got it. Teyla, get that blanket tucked around him as best you can. Major, come on, stay with us."

Sheppard made a faint sound.

Ford patted his cheek. "Sir, come on, we need you to stay with us, here, Doc's waiting for us, and we'll be there pretty damn quick."

"Kay." Faintly. "Rodney, you were right."

Rodney didn't want to be right. "Of course, I was. But that's beside the point." He looked down, saw Sheppard's eyes were wet again. "Major, you're going to be fine and then you'll have to listen to me say I told you so from now on."

Sheppard made a faint sound. "Thirsty."

"Work out a way," Rodney told Ford.

Ford looked at him, then leapt up, rummaged through one of the compartments. He came back with a plastic tube, popped it into his canteen and put the other end in Sheppard's mouth.

"Brilliant," Rodney told Ford, "Seriously. Good job."

Ford didn't look at him. Well, they all had their own guilt, he'd just have to try and think like Sheppard to reassure Ford. That wasn't going to be easy.

Sheppard drank a little, gasped and drank a little more.

Rodney wished he knew if they should be giving him water, but surely, given everything else, dehydration was a danger.

"Coming up on the gate," Markham called. "Keep him steady."

He hoped to God that going through the gate didn't hurt Sheppard. There was the sudden shock of cold and attenuation and then they were through and normal and Sheppard was still breathing, his ribcage expanding with each shallow breath.

Teyla rose and went to the front, came back and opened the lower hatch. He hadn't even realized they'd landed. "We're here, Major."

"Good." Very faintly.

As good as his word, Carson and his team were in the jumper bay, and Rodney got out of the way as Carson and the others swarmed in; he stood near the open hatch with bloody hands, watching as the medical team worked.

"Oh, my God," Elizabeth's voice, right behind him. "He let them do that?"

Rodney turned to look, saw her with a hand over her mouth.

"He was protecting Ford," he said, very quietly. Ford didn't need any additional guilt, he was carrying enough already. Ford was standing on the other side of the jumper with Teyla, out of Carson's way, and Teyla was talking quietly to him. "And he didn't want to kill any of the Hekke in order to get Ford free." Rodney looked at Elizabeth directly. "I didn't like it, I didn't want him to do it, I wanted Teyla to try and keep negotiating, but I gather that the man who wanted to punish Ford was…pretty dangerous. Major Sheppard didn't want to take the chance."

"Dear God," Elizabeth murmured. "His back—"

"That's the least of his worries. Carson says that's arterial blood." Rodney folded his arms. "He's in shock. I gave him some morphine before we took him to the jumper." He felt so nauseated that only talking kept him from losing it. "But he may need some whole blood, so I'm going to the infirmary. I'll brief you later."

"Go," she said, and he did.

They lifted Sheppard to the gurney in the bay, then, wheeled him to the infirmary, and Rodney followed, went in and waited for Carson.

When he'd finished with his blood donation, he found that Sheppard was sleeping on his stomach under a couple of warmed blankets, an IV stand with several bags hanging from it, the tubes snaking through the pump control. Added to beard stubble were sutures just under his mouth where Sheppard had apparently bitten through his lip; that explained the lack of any outcry, Rodney thought numbly.

"How is he?" he asked the nurse.

"He's stable, Dr. McKay." She checked the clippy thing on Sheppard's forefinger, watched the monitor. "He was shocky, but his vitals are better now, and the morphine you gave him has him pretty well under." She nodded at Rodney. "Dr. Beckett got the serious bleeding stopped, and he sutured what could be sutured. We're still topping him up, and he's going to have a lot of scarring, but he'll be fine."

Rodney's chest ached. "Good.'

Sheppard's eyelids lifted slightly. "R'ney?"

"Yeah, it's me." He went to the bed so Sheppard wouldn't move. "Just lie still."

"Yeah." Faintly. "You did great."

"I did nothing," he said bitterly. Sheppard tried to raise his head and Rodney put his hand on the back of Sheppard's head, touched sweat-matted hair. "Lie still!"

"Teyla told me," Sheppard said weakly, "You sent her back to keep arguing. You did great, Rodney. I was wrong. It might have killed me."

Rodney was pretty sure that last was true, and it made his throat hurt. He couldn't say anything, and he was afraid to touch Sheppard anywhere except his head, so he just patted Sheppard's hair lightly. "Yeah," he finally managed. "That's what I was afraid of."

"So don't fucking give yourself any grief. I made a bad call, you got me out of it." Sheppard raised the hand with the IV in it, caught Rodney's wrist. "I mean it, Rodney. You saved my ass."

Rodney had to clear his throat. Jesus, the man was still trying to reassure him. "Not your back."

"I can live with that, I'm still breathing." Sheppard's fingers were too cool. "And if you weren't such a stubborn son of a bitch, you'd see that you and Teyla are the reason I am."

"Okay," Rodney said, more to quiet Sheppard down than anything else. "He's still awfully chilled," he told the nurse, "I think he needs another warmed blanket."

She came to the bed, concerned, studied the monitors and nodded. "His vitals are good, Dr. McKay." Reassuringly, but she went anyway.

Rodney coaxed Sheppard's hand back down and drew the blanket over it. "You need to stay warm."

"Yeah, I got that." Sheppard closed his eyes for a moment. "You did really, really great. Did I thank you for the morphine?"

"Yes, you did," Rodney lied, and it was hard to talk again. Morphine, for God's sake.

Sheppard struggled to turn his head, to look at Rodney. "Good."

Rodney put his hand over Sheppard's, patted it gently through the blanket. "Rest, Major."

Sheppard's eyes closed again. "'kay."

His throat ached unmercifully. He walked out of the infirmary, found his way blocked by Ford and Teyla.

Ford's eyes were red, and he put his hands on McKay's shoulders. "Teyla told me you held it together," he said hoarsely.

"Teyla saved him," Rodney said shortly. "Not me. All I did was watch."

"You both saved him," Ford said strongly. "So don't give me that crap, sir."

Rodney couldn't say anything to that, it was so absurd; he shook his head and Teyla put her hand on his arm, gripped hard.

"If you had not told me what you knew, Dr. McKay, I would not have argued so compellingly." She shook at him. "Grant yourself credit for what you did. You followed the Major's orders, you kept the peace as he wished and you gave me the information I needed to convince the priestess.

"Rodney." Carson's voice. He turned his head and saw Carson, his expression kind. "Rodney, he's going to be all right. So far as I can tell, the worst damage is going to be the scarring."

Rodney swallowed hard. "No internal damage?"

"I'm not seeing any sign of any yet." Carson looked at Teyla. "You all did well, given the man was a fool to allow them to do that."

"He didn't have a lot of choice," Ford said irritably. "He didn't want any of the Hekke to end up dead."

"I don't want to hear you two argue this," Rodney snapped. "Carson, he made the best decision he could, and yes, it was a bad decision, but he underestimating a lot of things, and I couldn't convince him. He was trying to do the right thing and I'm sick of hearing about how stupid it was. You weren't there, Carson and you, Ford, you don't have to defend him."

Carson was taken aback. "Rodney, I didna mean—"

"Sorry, Doc." Ford looked away. "We're all a little upset."

Rodney shook his head. "How long will he sleep, do you think?"

"He'll be in and out. I've got him on the pump, so if it gets bad, he can medicate." Carson looked at the bed. "I'd say the next two days, he'll be in and out, Rodney."

"I'll be back, then." Rodney left, walking fast.

Elizabeth was in her office, resting her forehead on her hands. She looked up when Rodney tapped, straightened and beckoned him in.

He sat down across from her "I don't know what the others told you, Elizabeth, but Major Sheppard was trying to avoid killing any of the Hekke."

She nodded. "So I understand. How is he?"

"They told me he's stable. And he was conscious, I talked to him a little." Rodney laughed humourlessly. "Never thought I'd loathe hearing someone tell me I was right."

Elizabeth's expression changed. "Oh, Rodney, don't. This isn't your fault, this isn't Aiden Ford's fault, it's not even John's fault. He made a judgement call."

He nodded wearily. "I guess they've all filled you in."

"Yes, they did. And if anything, I think you and Teyla both deserve a helluva lot of credit." She rose, came to put a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you get cleaned up and eat something and try to get some rest?"

Rodney looked at his hands. He'd washed them hastily in the infirmary, but there were still traces of Sheppard's blood around his cuticles. "Yeah, I'll try."

Elizabeth patted his shoulder. "Same prescription I gave the rest of your team." She tried to smile. "Carson's busy, so I thought I'd take it on."

Rodney tried to smile back. "Yeah. Okay. Elizabeth, what do I say to Ford? I ought to say something. I not only took over, Jesus, but he's just a kid, and he's blaming himself."

"I know." Elizabeth sighed. "I talked to him, but I'm afraid he's not going to believe anyone but John. John's his commanding officer."

Rodney supposed that was true. Ford was unlikely to accept his reassurances. "Right. Well, I'm going to take a shower first of all."

She nodded.

But even a hot shower didn't make him feel any better, although Rodney suspected part of that was his blood sugar and went to the mess as soon as he was dressed again.

He had little appetite, though, and had to force himself to eat; Teyla appeared at the table and sat next to him, put her hand on his arm comfortingly before beginning her own meal. After a few moments, Markham appeared, and Stackhouse and finally, Ford.

"Did you get a chance to see him?" Rodney asked Ford finally.

Ford pushed the food on his plate around with a fork. "He was pretty out, I didn't want to wake him up."

"They said he was stable," Rodney offered. "And he talked to me, he was lucid."

"That's good," Stackhouse offered. "If he was real bad, he'd be really out of it, Lieutenant Shock. But he was pretty lucid in the jumper, too, Teyla said."

Ford considered that, looked a little better. "Yeah. And Dr. McKay kept the bleeding down."

"He did," Teyla agreed and looked sidelong at Rodney.

"Teyla said you had a friend who—" Ford stopped, swallowed hard.

"I don't think this was as bad," Rodney finally said. "It can damage the kidneys, cause fluid to press on the lungs, even cause inflammation around the heart. That was what killed my friend. I don't think that Major Sheppard took enough damage for that."

Ford pushed his plate away. "Jesus."

"No, seriously, Lieutenant." Rodney tried to put more reassurance into his voice. "And you know Carson's a good doctor. My friend was kept in prison, he didn't have medical care for three days. Plus, he took twice the blows."

"Twice?" Markham looked faintly ill. "Jesus, I've seen guys hit by shrapnel didn't look any worse."

Stackhouse nodded grimly. "There was something on the end of that whip, I saw it."

"Probably pieces of metal or bone." Rodney found his own appetite had gone completely. He'd eat a protein bar later, if he had to, he couldn't eat and talk about this. "More impact."

"They were going to give him seventy." Ford had gone a peculiar ashen shade. "That would have killed him."

"I think so." Rodney swallowed. "That's why I kept arguing with him, why I tried to stop him. Ford, it would have killed you, and you know he wouldn't have allowed that. He made the choice not to kill the Hekke. I admire that, even if I disagreed. I couldn't have done it."

Markham coughed. "Look, Lieutenant, you were following orders and the Major took responsibility. He's a good man, he's a good commander, he wasn't going to let any of us take hits for following his orders. I don't like it, I wish we'd done any fucking thing but let them have him, but we followed his orders. And Dr. McKay and Teyla got through to that priestess, and we got him back. You can't second-guess everything. He's alive and he's in a lot better shape than he would have been."

"Exactly," Rodney said and got up. "I'm just going to swing by and see how he's doing."

Ford nodded. "I'll go by in a while. Doc says one at a time, so we don't wear him out."

It made good sense.

Rodney went to the infirmary and found Sheppard lying on his side, the bed set to elevate his head and shoulders. Carson was watching the monitors and talking quietly to one of the nurses; he waited until he could catch Carson's eye. "Rodney," Carson said, "Come in, I think the Major could use a friendly face."

Rodney came toward the bed, frowned. There was another tube snaking out from under the blankets over Sheppard. "What's that."

"Pleural effusion, we need to drain it." Carson took in his expression. "Fluid, Rodney. It's not bad, I just don't want to take any chances."

Pleural effusion, Rodney knew what it was, and it made bile rise in his throat: fluid pressing on Sheppard's lungs from the damage his rib cage had taken.

"Hey, Ro'ney." Sheppard sounded stoned. "D'd you bring me any dinner? Doc wouldn't let me have a real meal."

"Sorry," Rodney said and swallowed hard. "You didn't miss anything, nobody could seem to get it down."

Sheppard licked his lips, peered at Rodney. "No?"

"No," Rodney said and shook his head. "But I'll sneak you in one of those power bars you like, later."

"Cool" Sheppard's eyelids were at half-mast.

Rodney touched Sheppard's hand lightly. "Other than the obvious, how are you doing?"

"Stoned." Sheppard coughed and his fingers tightened in the blanket. Carson was there, immediately, but Sheppard shook his head. "M'okay, doc." Hoarsely.

Carson frowned, glanced at Rodney. "How's the breathing?"

Sheppard blinked. "S'okay. Really. Better, even."

Rodney glanced at Carson worriedly.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" Sheppard looked at Rodney again. "Get me a book from my quarters?"

"Are you sure you're up to War and Peace?" Rodney asked. "I have a better idea. Why don't I bring you some DVDs to watch?"

"On what?" Sheppard looked interested, even stoned.

"My laptop," Rodney told him.

"That would be great." Sheppard's eyelids were still at half-mast "Keep me company, though? Keeps my mind off this fucking tube."

Rodney nodded. "If Carson says okay."

"It's a good idea, actually," Carson said. "We're keeping the morphine dose down because it depresses respiration, so he's in a bit of discomfort."

He hated thinking about that. "Well, if you can stay out of trouble while I get the laptop and the DVDs, I'll be back shortly."

"You got it." One corner of Sheppard's mouth lifted slightly before relaxing again.

Rodney looked at Carson again, got a fractional nod and left, thinking who had what and really, what kind of films Sheppard might enjoy.

Ford would know that, so he applied to Ford; within about twenty minutes, he had DVDs from all of the military personnel and recommendations from Ford on what he'd heard Sheppard talk about.

So. Rodney's laptop was easy to collect and he cadged some of the variety of protein bars that Sheppard preferred besides. When he got back, Sheppard was still more or less upright, and about half-asleep. He stirred when Rodney set the laptop quietly on the table, opened his eyes again. "Oh, good."

Rodney raised his eyebrows. "Good? I thought you were asleep."

"Can't." Sheppard swallowed audibly. "Can you hand me that water?"

Rodney held the glass instead, guided the straw, and Sheppard brought his hand up, rested his fingers on Rodney's and drank thirstily. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Rodney was oddly shaken by that touch. "More? She left a pitcher here."

"Please." Sheppard's voice sounded better, anyway.

Rodney poured more water, held the glass again. Sheppard's fingers felt too cool, still, but he supposed that was natural enough. Sheppard was still pretty damned thirsty, despite the IV; he wondered if Carson knew that, if it was something he should tell Carson, if it was a bad thing or a good thing. He glanced up at the monitors, but while he could tell if his own readings were whacky, he didn't know enough to tell about Sheppard's. "I'm going to get a refill on this pitcher. I brought you some power bars."

"Yeah?" Sheppard smiled crookedly. "Thanks, Rodney."

"You're welcome." Shaken again, Rodney went to find more ice and water, stopped at Carson's office. "He's really thirsty, is that a good sign?"

Carson looked up at him and Rodney realized how tired Carson was. "Well, yes and no, Rodney. It's good for him, though, and we do want to be sure his kidneys are working."

Rodney hesitated. "And are they?"

"They seem to be." Carson sighed. "Really, Rodney, he's in amazingly good condition considering. You did very well, very well indeed." He nodded at Rodney approvingly. "And that was very good thinking about the morphine dose."

Rodney felt a little better about that. "So it's okay if I get him a refill?"

"Here, leave it, I'll have Kath do it. At the moment, he needs all the distraction we can give him until I can increase his dose."

That made Rodney's stomach knot again. "Okay, thanks, Carson."

Carson nodded.

Rodney left the pitcher, went back and found Sheppard's eyes closed, his face drawn. He wasn't sure if that meant sleep or not, but when he moved the table, Sheppard's eyes opened suddenly and he fumbled for the pump control, his gaze totally unfocused

Rodney grabbed it, put it into his hand and Sheppard pressed it hard, dragged in a shaky breath. "Thanks." Thin voice.

"You're welcome." Rodney's hand was still over Sheppard's. "Better?"

"Getting there." Faintly.

Rodney could see the drug hit enough to nibble away the worst pain, saw Sheppard's eyelids go heavy again. "Now?"

Sheppard nodded. "Better."

Rodney let go then, flushed and wondering what the hell was wrong with him; he knew better. The laptop booted up nicely and he held up the stack of DVD cases. "So, you get your choice."

"Cool."

Rodney got that crooked smile again and marveled. It wasn't a smile he usually saw on Sheppard's face. It was probably the drugs, he told himself and laid the cases out for Sheppard to choose.

"You pick," Sheppard said drowsily. "My brain isn't at its best on morphine."

"I would think not," Rodney said and managed a chuckle. "All right, how about Outland?"

"Classic," Sheppard said and smiled at him again.

"High Noon in space," Rodney agreed and opened the case.

In the end, Sheppard seemed more interested in his commentary than the movie itself, which struck Rodney as both odd and darkly amusing, considering Sheppard usually got irritated and demanded a summary of whatever Rodney was talking about or just told him irritably to cut to the chase. And, of course, when the morphine wore off, Sheppard got narrow-focused on him, listening as if Rodney's voice were a lifeline.

It made Rodney a little nuts finally. "Press the goddamn button, Major!" he finally said sharply.

Sheppard blinked at him, took a ragged breath. There were beads of sweat on his upper lip. "Doc said the morphine—"

"He's got the dose set low, just press it." Rodney got up and stood next to the bed, willing Sheppard to listen to him, touched Sheppard's wrist "Major, dammit--John, there's no reason for you to wait. He's got the dose set lower."

Sheppard pressed the button. Rodney waited, his fingers still on Sheppard's wrist and felt the tension ease. "Sorry," Sheppard breathed, "Just, I got a little freaked out earlier when it was so hard to breathe."

Rodney nodded, swallowed hard. "Yeah, I bet. Better?" He hated feeling helpless, hated not knowing what to do and he was totally awful at giving comfort, totally awful.

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah." Hoarsely.

"You idiot, Carson wouldn't give you a lethal dose," Rodney said irritably. "There's no reason for you to be in agony, for God's sake." He patted Sheppard's wrist. "Did your IQ drop sharply in the last 36 hours or something?"

Sheppard made a faint sound that wasn't quite laughter. "At least in the last 12, I guess."

Jesus. "Sorry, sorry," Rodney said, feeling awful. "Sorry, that was—"

"S'okay, Rodney." Sheppard touched his hand, squeezed it. "I've got a sick sense of humour. Can you replay that last bit of the movie?"

Rodney was glad to have something concrete to do.

Sheppard finally dozed after a while, but every time Rodney shifted, preparatory to turning the movie off, his eyes opened. So Rodney watched, tried to relax enough to enjoy it. It had always been one of his favorite movies if only because the writers hadn't tried to magic the whole space travel lag time. Of course, that had been before Rodney had gone into wormhole physics and worked on the Stargate program. Thinking about that made him smile faintly, remembering Sheppard's calculation of how long it would take to come and get Rodney in the jumper if he broke the DVD on the mist planet.

"What?" Drowsy voice.

Rodney glanced over. "Oh. I was just thinking about how long it takes to travel in space." He couldn't help smiling at Sheppard. "And your calculations in that area."

Sheppard laughed, coughed a little and shook his head when Rodney stood up. "M'okay. Throat gets dry."

So Rodney held the glass of water again. Sheppard shifted a little to drink and the blanket fell away and he could see Sheppard's side, where the whip had curled around his rib cage. There was a suture there where the end of the whip had dug in and opened skin and flesh and the horror of it struck him hard.

He was trying so hard, but he was so goddamn furious that Sheppard had risked himself like this, that Sheppard could have died, for God's sake, if Teyla had failed, and all Rodney would have done was watch, stood there with his hand on his gun, hating the Hekke and watching them while they'd torn Sheppard apart.

"Rodney?" Drowsy again.

"If you ever do anything this stupid again, I'll shoot you myself," Rodney said evenly, trying to keep his hand from shaking. "I swear I will. Seventy lashes, Major, they were going to give you seventy lashes, and this, this was only twenty-five."

Sheppard swallowed, but didn't look away. "I know. I was wrong."

"Can I get that in writing?" Some of Rodney's rage ebbed. "A contract?"

"Don't push it," Sheppard said, but his eyes were too bright.

Rodney patted Sheppard's hand again. "Right."

Sheppard tried to smile. "If you're this mad, I have to know how Ford's doing."

"He's not angry." Rodney sighed, put the glass back. "He feels guilty."

"Shit." Sheppard closed his eyes. "I was afraid of that. Dammit, I ordered him into that temple. I was responsible."

"Major, shut up." If he had to hear that one more time, he wasn't going to be able to keep from serious yelling.

Earnest look. "Rodney, I killed sixty people when the Genii invaded. I closed the 'Gate shield on them. I can't say I wouldn't do the same again, given what we faced. But the Hekke—they're not on the same level, and if we'd escalated, that goddamn priest wouldn't have backed down, and the Illan would have had to get into it and people would have died. We'd have had to kill them."

Rodney's throat ached and he couldn't do anything but pat Sheppard again. He cleared his throat finally. "Ford will be fine. Especially once you talk to him."

Sheppard smiled crookedly. "Thanks."

Thanks? The man was insane. Certifiable, and on morphine. Rodney patted him again anyway, his throat still too tight. "Aren't you ready to try and get some sleep?"

"Yeah." Sheppard had the pump control in one fist. "Thanks, Rodney. Seriously."

Insane. "Seriously, you're welcome," Rodney said roughly and shut the laptop down. He left the DVDs, though, betting that Sheppard might be glad of them in the coming days.

Now all Rodney needed to do is try and get some sleep.

 

Sheppard looked better in the morning, although only just. He was wearing one of the hospital gowns unfastened and sitting upright to eat when Rodney arrived with one of the spare laptops under his arm.

"Hi," Sheppard said and smiled, a little loopily. "Whatcha got?"

Amused, Rodney held the laptop up. Stoned, Sheppard seemed entirely harmless and fuzzy, that ridiculous hair sticking up in all directions. Hard to believe the man had taken out an entire Genii strike force virtually single-handed.

"Zat for me?" Sheppard took a careful bite of something Rodney guessed might be scrambled powdered eggs.

"It's for you to use," Rodney corrected. "We got the DVD software loaded, so you can watch to your heart's content. I take it Carson decided you weren't in danger of respiratory arrest?"

Sheppard blinked slowly. "What?"

"He raised the dose on the pump."

"Oh." Loopy grin. "Yeah. S' good shit."

Rodney couldn't keep from returning that grin. "You are really stoned."

"Yeah." Still moving carefully, Sheppard picked up his cup with both hands and drank, his eyes closing in something close to bliss.

"Good morning, Rodney." Carson stood beside him.

"It's nearly midday," Rodney said.

"Nearly. The Major had a rough night," Carson said pleasantly. "So we let him sleep late."

Rodney looked at Carson. "How's his, uh, chest?"

"Good," Sheppard said. "Look, no tube." He raised his arms, which proved nothing because the gown was in the way.

Rodney couldn't help laughing. "You are really, really stoned."

"Sorta," Sheppard agreed cheerfully and picked up a piece of toast. "And hungry."

Carson chuckled. "Well, at least he's comfortable now. We'll start cutting back again tomorrow, if all goes well."

Right. Rodney's experience was that things seldom went well once they'd started badly. "And if it doesn't?"

"Two days." Carson gave him an amused look. "Rodney, the Major's doing remarkably well."

"Can't take a shower, though." Mournful tone.

Rodney looked back. "Of course, you can't, you idiot," he told Sheppard.

Sheppard looked taken aback. "I'm not an idiot, I'm a major."

"A major idiot," Rodney retorted.

Sheppard's expression was wounded.

Carson snorted. "I'll leave you two to talk."

"You're allowed to say I told you so, not call me an idiot," Sheppard said sulkily.

Jesus, the man was damned near adorable when stoned and sulky. Rodney had to take in a breath, gathered his wits again. "You're right, that was rude. I apologize."

Sheppard blinked. "You do?"

Rodney scowled. "Don't make me regret it."

"Okay." Surprisingly meekly and Sheppard went back to his breakfast.

They were both insane. Rodney was standing here trying not to laugh at stoned Sheppard and it wasn't funny, the man was only stoned because his back was torn to ribbons.

"I guess you're still really mad at me," Sheppard ventured, giving him a cautious look.

Rodney felt exasperation and a surge of that wayward affection that he'd been refusing to recognize. "Uh, yeah, I am, at least a little." He'd had time to think about it while trying to sleep the night before. He sure as hell wouldn't have wanted Ford to endure what Sheppard had endured either, and despite the damn priest, the Hekke had been, as Sheppard had pointed out, noncombatants. He wouldn't have shed any tears for the priest, though. "I still think you should have shot the priest."

Stoned or not, Sheppard managed to roll his eyes. "And you say *my* diplomatic skills are primitive."

Rodney' had only said that to a few people. "How do you know I say that?" he demanded.

"Weir told me." Sheppard looked thoughtfully at his toast. "Wish we had jelly."

"Soon, Teyla says," Rodney said absently. "Elizabeth told you?"

"Sorta." John picked up the cup again, drank. "She was sorta chewing me out for the whole weapons dealer thing before things went to hell with the Genii."

Rodney made an noncommittal sound. "You've got butter on your upper lip."

Sheppard solved that by swiping his hand over it. "So I did," he said and licked his hand.

"And your skills have improved slightly. Actually, I said mine were practically non-existent and yours were downright primitive."

"Says the man who told the Genii he knew everything about everything." Sheppard's mouth curved slightly. "Teyla says soon?"

"On the mainland, of course," Rodney told him. "You know, ripe fruit, the whole making jelly and jam and whatnot with it."

"Too bad they don't have coffee beans," Sheppard sighed. "Preserves are really good, too."

"Focus, Major. You're eating breakfast."

"I know, I just think preserves would be really, really good." Sheppard gave him a wide-eyed, earnest look. "Sometimes, I miss sweets."

"I miss them all the time," Rodney said, surrendering to drug-induced daffiness. "And coffee. And airline food."

"Airline food," Sheppard said thoughtfully. "Rodney, you're kinda weird about that, ya know? Airline food sucks, and there's never enough."

"Well, I know, it's like MREs." Rodney considered. "Look at it this way, I generally know what I'm getting in both. No nasty surprises."

"Like what?" Sheppard seemed genuinely interested.

"Like…like lemon, for example." Rodney leaned on the foot of the bed. "Or…nuts. Or strawberries."

"Airlines give you those nuts and pretzel things," Sheppard objected.

"Yes, but I know there are nuts in those, so I don't eat them."

Another bite of toast. "You don't like nuts? I miss peanut butter."

"I'm allergic," Rodney said and then wondered why he bothered. It was obvious that Carson and Elizabeth were the only ones who really believed he had serious allergies, and he'd rather that than have people feeling sorry for him. "And I'm not allergic to peanuts. Other nuts. Tree nuts."

"That sucks." Sheppard looked at him sympathetically. "What else?"

"What difference does it make?" Rodney eyed him, amused again.

"I was just wondering," Sheppard said, a little defensively. "I mean, what if I hand you something you're allergic to?"

"I won't accept it," Rodney told him. "Trust me, John, I know what I'm allergic to. It has a way of becoming indelibly etched on your memory once you go into anaphylactic shock."

Sheppard winced. "Yeah, I bet." He ate his last bite of toast. "I miss jelly," he said again.

Rodney grinned. "Are you this funny when you're drunk, too?"

"I'm not funny now," Sheppard objected. "I'm….relaxed."

"I'll say."

Sheppard regarded his empty plate with surprise. "I'm still hungry."

"You've still got your power bars," Rodney pointed out.

Sheppard brightened. "I forgot." He turned toward the side table and started to reach across the space, made a choked sound and straightened. "Okay, not a good idea." Faintly.

Appalled, Rodney retrieved the bars. From this angle he could see the gauze loosely taped over most of Sheppard's back, could see the seepage that discolored it. "Here," he said and dropped the bars in Sheppard's lap. "Jesus, Major. Have they changed the dressings?"

"This morning," Sheppard looked at him sidelong. "Bad?"

"Not as bad as yesterday," Rodney said, although he had no way of knowing whether or not that was true. He glanced at Sheppard's hand, saw it was clenched. 'Will you for God's sake use that button?"

Sheppard grimaced. "Ten more minutes."

He felt foolish. "Sorry."

"S'okay. I just moved too fast." That crooked smile again and it was killing Rodney and he really hated that, really hated feeling when he wasn't in charge of it, and so he patted Sheppard, muttered something about getting to the lab and left the laptop at the foot of Sheppard's bed.

 

Broken flesh healed, of course, and within three weeks, Sheppard was back on light duty, although it was another week before Elizabeth assigned them another mission.

"She's coddling me," Sheppard grumbled in the ready room. "It's driving me nuts."

"She's not coddling you, she just has a vested interest in your well being, sir." Ford rolled his eyes at Rodney.

Teyla looked like she was having trouble suppressing a smile. "And undoubtedly, she wishes you to be at your best," she added and put on her vest.

Sheppard scowled. "Yeah, I suppose." He shrugged into his own vest, and Rodney watched critically. "Stop looking at me, McKay."

"I'm not the only one looking at you," Rodney said and felt his face get hot anyway. "You're still a little stiff."

Ford winced, gave him a warning look over Sheppard's shoulder.

"I'm not stiff, I'm just…a little out of shape from all the rest I'm getting." Sheppard's scowl deepened.

"Right," Ford said hastily. "We're all set, sir."

Rodney scowled back and Sheppard looked away first, put his sunglasses in his collar. Rodney picked up his pack and shouldered it, saw Sheppard heft his and sling one strap over his shoulder. He glanced at Ford, saw Ford take it in and sighed inwardly. At least they were taking the jumper through the gate, not walking.

They'd already surveyed this world, but there were ruins: tantalizing, intriguing, and potentially left by some offshoot of the race that had built Atlantis. The world was, apparently, uninhabited, so they were going to stay the night, albeit within very close range of the jumper, and the members of the anthro team assigned to go with them were salivating in unison at the chance.

Rodney was less excited, but then he had never been a huge fan of camping. Pollen, insects, dirt, and mold weren't his idea of fun times. Despite the grouching, he thought Sheppard was nearly as thrilled as the anthro types, if only to get out of Atlantis.

That was probably why Rodney's stomach was upset. Never mind, the planet was uninhabited, and Sheppard could hardly get into trouble on an uninhabited planet—barring the Wraith, of course—it still made his stomach upset.

Maybe Rodney needed to go back into therapy. There was obviously something wrong with him. He was still having terrible dreams about the flogging and it hadn't even been him. He was still feeling excessively protective about Sheppard, a man who obviously wasn't exceptionally protective of himself and reckless in the extreme, and even he knew it was unfair to think like that; Sheppard was a bona-fide goddamned hero, and didn't act like he was one. Rodney felt more and more of that inconvenient affection as days went by. He was just thankful that Sheppard had recovered far more quickly than anyone had a right to recover, pleural drainage not withstanding because he was fairly sure he'd have had a real breakdown if Sheppard hadn't.

Rodney considered that gloomily on the way to the jumper. Once inside, Teyla looked across at him. "Are you well, Dr. McKay?"

"I'm fine," he told her, surprised.

"He's still mad at me," Sheppard said airily.

Baffled, Rodney scowled at the back of Sheppard's neck. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Mad at me," Sheppard told Ford, just as airily.

Ford looked non-plussed at this, as well he might. "Mad at you, sir?"

"Yup."

"Are you taking morphine again?" Rodney asked acidly. "I haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about."

Sheppard looked over his shoulder. "Okay." Mildly.

Rodney rolled his eyes.

Ford coughed and cleared his throat. "Jumper one, ready to go," he said into the radio."

"You're cleared for take off, Jumper one," Grodin's voice told them.

Sheppard gave Rodney one more look before going all business and taking the flight controls.

Rodney had a feeling he was going to be experiencing yet another confusing aspect of his feelings with regard to John Sheppard before the end of the day; he just hoped it didn't include homicidal rage.

The rest of the flight was reasonably uneventful despite Sheppard's flyby of the ruins. They landed, made camp and Rodney went off on his own explorations with his scanner.

He detected some interesting readings on the far side of the ruined complex and found some half-collapsed doorways. That part was annoying, but the blocks weren't that big, and with a little effort, he thought he could shift them.

"What are you doing?"

Sheppard's voice nearly made Rodney drop the first block on his own foot. "What are *you* doing?" he retorted, "Besides trying to give me a stroke?"

Wearing his sunglasses, Sheppard grinned. "Just watching your back, that's all."

"It's not my back that needs watching," Rodney said irritably and wished he hadn't when Sheppard's grin faded somewhat.

"You *are* still mad at me," Sheppard said conversationally. "Don't you think we oughta get this resolved if we're going to work together?"

"Does that mean you're going to kick me off your team if you don't think it's resolved?" Rodney eyed him warily. The last thing he intended to do was to share his feelings, they were his own feelings, thank you very much, and they didn't need sharing.

"I didn't say that." Sheppard took his sunglasses. "Jesus, you're hard to talk to, Rodney. And you've been avoiding me since they cut me loose of the infirmary."

"I certainly have not," Rodney told him and shifted another block. "I didn't realize paranoia was going to be a side effect of flogging."

"Oh, very funny," Sheppard said and hooked his sunglasses on his collar again. "Let me give you a hand and what the hell are you doing here?"

"Trying to get in this doorway, of course." Rodney was glad of the help and Sheppard didn't seem to have any real trouble lifting.

Sheppard moved two of the blocks and then said, "And I'm not being paranoid. You have been avoiding me."

"I see you all the time," Rodney said dismissively. "You are being paranoid."

"You never talk to me," Sheppard said plaintively. "You talk to Ford and Teyla."

Rodney stared at him. "What in the hell are you talking about? I'm talking to you now!"

"Because we're alone," Sheppard said and gestured. "There's no one else here to talk to but me."

Sheppard was giving him a headache. He moved another block. "I talked to you in the ready room."

"First time in days," Sheppard complained and moved a block, too.

"Have you discovered some Pegasus galaxy form of crack and started smoking it?" Rodney demanded and lifted another block.

"Do you always have to be so damn difficult? You were nice to me when I was stoned on morphine."

"I don't believe in taking advantage of the handicapped," Rodney snapped.

Sheppard scowled at him. "Just forget it." He moved two more blocks and then stood back and folded his arms. "Isn't that enough?"

Rodney considered and nodded. He got the scanner out of his vest and held it up. "Yup, definitely in here." He looked at Sheppard, who looked more glum than irritated and felt ashamed. "That last, the handicapped thing, that was, you know, uh, out of line. You're just very irritating when you're like this."

"Like what?" Sheppard frowned at him.

"Wrongheadedly pushy," Rodney said and ducked through the opening.

Naturally, Sheppard followed him. He should have known.

Still, the inside of this particular room was fairly intact, and there was an interesting thing on the farthest wall that reminded Rodney of the touchpad in the Atlantis transporters, even though it seemed to be made of very different material. And that, apparently, was the source of his readings.

"Interesting," Sheppard said, "Doesn't that look like--"

"Yeah, it does," Rodney agreed and approached. "It really does. It's made of a different material though." The panel pulsed with a sullen yellow light when he got closer to it. "That's odd."

"Very." Sheppard was beside him. "The ones on Atlantis don't do that."

The light got brighter.

"I don't think that's necessarily something we should be standing next to," Rodney said, suddenly uneasy.

"Maybe it's just powering up," Sheppard said and raised his hand.

"Don't," Rodney began and there was a flash of bright light and then darkness and he landed on his ass on a hard surface.

"Ow!" Sheppard's voice, nearby him.

"Why do you always have to touch things?" Rodney snapped and felt around for his flashlight. At least he hadn't landed on it. "All the time. Touching things. Sitting in chairs. Touching things!" He found the flashlight, turned it on and aimed it in the general direction of Sheppard's voice. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, fuck off, Rodney." A snarl.

Well, at least Sheppard was all right, Rodney thought irritably and got up. He shone the light around the…well, it was a chamber, and the flashlight was soon unnecessary as hidden lights came up. T

hey were in a fairly small room, about half the size of, say, Sheppard's quarters, and there was a largish console surface about waist height wrapped around all five walls. No ZPMs that Rodney could see, but if this technology was being triggered by the ATA gene, it seemed likely that it was, as they'd theorized, an offshoot of Atlantean civilization.

Sheppard was rubbing his lower back when Rodney turned around. That sparked a brief flare of panic. "You are all right, right?"

"I landed on my tailbone." Sheppard's tone was short. "Where the hell are we?"

"I have no idea," Rodney told him and looked back at the consoles. "This is very interesting, though." He studied the characters, wishing vainly he hadn't left his pack and laptop back at the camp. He could have connected his laptop right, oh, right there, and perhaps--

"There's no door."

Rodney blinked and looked up at the odd tone in Sheppard's voice. Sheppard was right. Only consoles stretching around all five walls, he thought and wondered what the hell was wrong with him he hadn't noticed it. "Or windows," he said and glanced at Sheppard.

"No doors or windows," Sheppard repeated and then, as if they'd both thought of it at the same time, they both looked up.

Solid stone. Not good.

"Or trapdoors," Sheppard said and keyed his radio. "Ford?" Static answered him.

"This isn't good," Rodney said nervously. Which was understatement. They were trapped somewhere in a room without exits and God knew how much, or how little, breathable air, and this was not good.

Sheppard glared at him. "No, no, I'd say not so much good, I'd say pretty not good." He tried his radio again. "Ford? Teyla?"

Rodney felt panic slithering around his stomach and making a very serious attempt at climbing up his throat. "Oh, God, this is bad, very, very bad." Swallowing hard only shoved panic back down to the pit of his stomach.

"Ford, come in. This is Sheppard, Ford, come in." Sheppard paced, in so far as it was possible to pace in the small space available, gripping his radio with white-knuckle intensity.

Rodney watched that with a sort of distant, scientific interest. "Maybe yours is broken," he said and pressed the button on his own. "Lieutenant Ford, come in please."

Sheppard turned to watch him.

Static was the only answer Rodney got, too. "Lieutenant Ford, come in, please, this is McKay."

Nothing.

"We could have been transported out of radio range," Rodney said, wishing he hadn't thought of it. "It could be as simple as that. When we don't show up at camp, Ford will get Landers to fly the jumper and he'll look for us with the scanner and we'll be able to contact him.

"How will he know where to look?" Sheppard stood still, looking badly shaken.

It was interesting in an academic way. Rodney hadn't ever seen Sheppard look this way. "Well, he won't, but I'm sure with the scanner, he'll be able to figure it out, Lieutenant Ford is intelligent and resourceful." He was babbling. "As long as the air in here lasts."

Sheppard went white. "Rodney, shut up."

Okay, make that very shaken. Rodney had heard Sheppard furious, in pain, laughing, but he'd never heard fear before, not even when Sheppard must have been afraid. Like with superWraith or whipping or-- paradoxically, it calmed him down. "Major," he said, trying for gentle, and achieving only a reasonable tone.

Sheppard ignored him in favor of the radio. "Ford, will you for fuck's sake come in!"

This very un-Sheppard like behavior could be alarming, but it was having some sort of weird reverse ratio effect; Rodney felt pretty damn cool-headed himself. He took a step over, closed his fingers around Sheppard's wrist. "Major?" This close, he could see Sheppard was sweating. "Major, calm down, we're going to get out of here."

Brief enraged look, and Rodney could feel minute tremors in the wrist that he held. "I'm claustrophobic, okay?" Sheppard snarled.

Okay, Rodney could burst out laughing, which was not only non-productive, it was really, really unkind, or he could try to reassure Sheppard. He wasn't used to reassuring people; it wasn't one of his strengths, but what the hell. He squeezed Sheppard's wrist gently and held Sheppard's gaze. "It's all right, we'll find a way out of here, all these consoles are here for a purpose and one of the controls will surely get us back out."

Sheppard's death grip on the radio eased up and his eyes were wide. "Don't patronize me, Rodney!" But he sounded a little calmer, a little less fraught. "You can't read Ancient any more fluently than I can."

"Well, it's not really Ancient," Rodney temporized, "It's some derivative, Corrigan thinks—"

"Rodney!" Dangerous tone and Sheppard's eyes were wide enough he could see the white all around the irises.

Okay. Rodney shifted lanes. "But we both recognize a little Ancient, and we certainly recognize numeric characters, we should be able to figure something out. First, let's see if we recognize any of the symbols here." He let go of Sheppard's wrist.

Sheppard took a deep breath and Rodney could see him focusing again. "Right," Sheppard said, "Right. Symbols." He turned toward one of the consoles. "Okay.'

Fortunately, the urge to laughter had utterly passed. Rodney felt a wave of affection for Sheppard again, smiled a little fondly. Sheppard had his own reaction to certain doom, and he was coming to really appreciate it. No panic, only narrow focus on what could be done. Cool.

Rodney forced himself to focus and started examining the console in front of him.

They ended up meeting in the middle. "I think I recognize numbers," Sheppard said.

There was sweat on his upper lip, Rodney noted and said, "Okay, I think there's some kind of a shield control over here. The symbols show only slight alteration from some of the controls we have on Atlantis."

"And?" Sheppard's tone was sharp.

"And I'm going to attempt to deactivate it. It might be preventing radio contact."

Sheppard nodded. "What if it's not a shield?"

"I think it is."

"But what if it's not?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and walked back over to the control and put his hand on it. It flared to life, of course, God bless Carson, and there was a brief humming sound. One board, that had been glowing, went dark. "Try your radio again."

Sheppard keyed his radio again. "Ford?"

Static and then, "Major? Where the hell are you and Dr. McKay? I sent Calhoun after you and he couldn't find you."

"Well, that's the thing, Lieutenant, I don't know where we are. We, uh, got transported somewhere. Somewhere without doors or windows." Sheppard sounded a little calmer, at least. "So, maybe you could come over to the west side of the complex and try doing some scanning?"

"We might not be on the west side," Rodney pointed out. Although that, he thought, was an alarming thought. Hell, for all he knew they could be six miles underground. No, he was not going to go there.

Evidently, Sheppard's mind did. Well, Rodney knew he wasn't stupid. Sheppard stared at Rodney with a sort of dawning horror. "Rodney." Faintly.

Rodney pressed the button on his own radio. "Set the scanner to underground, too, Lieutenant And start on the west side."

"Dr. McKay?"

"Lieutenant, this is really, really important. You have to start on the west side. And then spread out if you can't locate us. I'll be working on it from this end."

There was a static-filled paused and then, "Roger that."

Sheppard seemed to shake his paralysis off. "And stay in touch, Lieutenant"

"Yes, sir. Ford out."

"We're going to get out of here," Rodney said with more confidence than he actually felt. "So think positive." It was darkly funny that he had started sounding like Major Optimism over there.

"Right." Sheppard looked at him and then back at the console. "What next?"

Rodney took his PDA out of another vest pocket. "Okay, I've got a cheat sheet on here. We work out way through it and see if we can identify any other controls."

"Right." Sheppard looked at him again, totally narrow-focused. "Let's get started."

Rodney brought up the cheat sheet, and because he had pretty well memorized it, gave the PDA to Sheppard. "There. You start on that side, I'll check this one."

"Right." Sheppard took the PDA and went to the opposite side of the room.

Focus, Rodney thought and smiled ruefully. He had to stay focused or he'd panic, and then where would poor claustrophobic John Sheppard be? They'd both be in hysterics. He had to stay calm enough to keep both of them busy.

With that in mind, Rodney buckled down. It took him only about twenty minutes to figure things out, once he really started working and he was amazed it had taken that long.

"It's a computer operations center," he told Sheppard.

Sheppard looked back at him. "We're trapped in a computer operations center?"

"Well, I don't necessarily think we're trapped, we just haven't figured out how to get out," Rodney said absently. "This is fascinating, but the computer core has evidently been destroyed."

"What good does this do us?" Sheppard snapped. "It's not getting us out of here."

Rodney looked at Sheppard, caught between bad temper and a phobia inspired panic attack. "Major, we're going to get out of here." Firmly.

"How?" Sheppard was definitely twitchy.

Rodney figured touch couldn't hurt and put his hand on Sheppard's shoulder. "We are going to get out of here. We'll figure it out."

Sheppard looked at him, trust and doubt in one big Sheppard sized lump. "How?"

How the hell did he know? "I thought you were Mr. Optimism," Rodney said irritably. "We'll find a way."

Sheppard looked at him, swallowed hard, leaned in and bumped his nose against Rodney's on the way to a truly awful, awkward kiss.

Except it wasn't truly awful, it was stunning and amazing.

It was also too brief.

"Sorry," Sheppard said nervously, eyeing Rodney as if he expected Rodney to punch him. "I just, I figured—"

Oh, of course, last words, last acts, and Rodney was suddenly completely irritated. "We aren't going to die," he snapped and took Sheppard's face in his hands. "Are you always this bad?" What the hell, he thought and showed Sheppard how it was done. Sheppard didn't seem any too averse to instruction, either, he had his hands on Rodney's ass and his tongue in Rodney's mouth with very little coaching.

Which was wonderful and all very well, except they still needed to get out of this room. He drew back and dear God, Sheppard—no, no, he couldn't seriously keep thinking of him as Sheppard now, rank and distance were far out of the window—John, John was staring at his mouth.

"We're going to get out of here," Rodney told him firmly. "So stop panicking."

"I'm not panicking." John twitched. "I just—"

Rodney kissed him again to shut him up. That not only worked, but he had a very nice handful of John's ass now, and this was distracting him from what needed to be done so he could do this some more, preferably without so much clothing involved.

Their radios crackled and they practically leapt apart. "Major, Dr. McKay? I think we've located you. Now we just have to figure out how to get you out. I've got people bringing in some equipment from Atlantis, just in case."

John swallowed, pressed the button on his radio. "That's terrific, Lieutenant."

Rodney nodded, staring at John's mouth. "Yes, it is."

"Keep us updated, Lieutenant," Sheppard said, "We'll be working on it from this end."

Rodney nodded.

Of course, they really weren't, because the minute John took his finger off the button, Rodney had another handful of his ass, and John was backed against the console.

A little voice in the back of Rodney's brain pointed out that he wasn't getting them out, but he told it that at least neither of them were panicking. In fact, they were so not panicking that there wasn't any space whatsoever between their bodies, Rodney could feel John's erection against his own, and John's hands were up the back of his shirt. Then, unfortunately, John's ass must have landed on one of the controls, or no, it had to be the back of Rodney's hand because of the way the goddamn ATA gene worked, and of course that lit up the entire console and he just had enough time to stop mapping John's mouth before…

A flash of light, the sensation of falling and having something heavy land on him and Rodney was staring up at the sky again, trying to breathe.

"Sir!" Ford's voice, distant.

"Ow," Rodney said faintly.

"Rodney?" John rolled off him, thankfully giving him a chance to drag in a deep breath. "Rodney, are you okay?"

"Yes," Rodney said and pushed himself up. "Just a little surprised."

"Yeah." John looked at him and then started to laugh. "Me, too."

Rodney couldn't help himself, he started laughing, too. "Very."

"Extremely." John sat down on the grass and laughed helplessly.

"That damned ATA gene," Rodney said and howled.

Ford arrived on the scene and stared at both of them as if they'd lost their minds. Maybe, Rodney thought and wiped at his eyes, they had.

John waved a hand helplessly at him. "We got out, Lieutenant."

Rodney managed to sit upright. "Obviously. I hope you didn't leave my PDA in there, Major."

John, alarmingly, giggled and patted his vest. "Right here."

The giggle nearly sent him over the edge. "Good," he said, and snickered. "I think it's time to return to camp."

"Yeah," Ford said fervently. "It's getting dark and I want doc to have a look at you when he gets here. I'll, uh, radio back to Atlantis and cancel the equipment."

"Good plan," John said and cracked up again.

"No, no," Rodney said, "We're fine. And we might need the equipment to get down there. John, stop that, for God's sake, Ford thinks we're in shock or something."

John made an attempt to stop. "It was just an accident we got out, and it was very sudden, Lieutenant. So, you know, we're sort of surprised." His mouth twitched suspiciously.

Ford looked from John to Rodney. "Okay. I still think Doc oughta have a look at you."

John got to his feet, held a hand out for Rodney. He held on to Rodney's hand a little longer than usual and gave him a peculiarly sweet smile that made Rodney's pulse speed up.

Rodney supposed that meant John wasn't backing up from what had happened in the chamber. Which only made his pulse speed up a little more.

They arrived back at Camp as the jumper with the doctor and the equipment. The doctor, one of Carson's staff physicians, seemed more amused than anything by the false alarm, and pronounced them both undamaged, to Ford's obvious doubt.

The reason for Ford's doubt kept snickering at odd moments, even while eating dinner. Then, as people were going to bed, John came to sit beside Rodney at the fire, nudged him over on the fallen log he was using as a seat.

"Hi."

"Hi." He looked at John's profile, amused all over again. And aroused. "Ford thinks we're both in shock or under alien influence."

"Shock, I think." John looked at him, gave him that sweet smile again. "So you're not still mad at me, I guess."

"No, I'm not. Although your certainty over that might be part of the reason he thinks you're behaving oddly." He nudged John.

John snickered and turned back to the fire. "Well, if he'd seen us about thirty seconds before he saw us, he'd think we were both nuts." He paused. "We weren't, were we?"

"No more than usual." Rodney nudged again. "Why, are you feeling sanity return?"

John's mouth curved, but he kept looking at the fire. "Not that I've noticed."

"That's promising," Rodney said thoughtfully.

John looked at him then. "Um, yeah. I, uh, figured we'd share a tent, if that's okay. When we set up earlier, I told Ford I needed to talk to you."

Rodney considered that. "Earlier. Before we ended up transporting to a dead computer operations room."

"Yeah."

They sat a moment longer. "Well," Rodney said and stood up, "I'm going to bed."

"I, ah, I'll be along in a minute." John looked at him again, nervous and god, sweet and bizarrely tentative.

Was it possible to blush with one's entire body? Rodney wasn't sure, but he managed to nod and then escaped into the night. Of course, with all that, he'd forgotten to ask John where, precisely, the tent in question was situated, so he had to ask Ford.

"Right over there, Dr. McKay." Ford eyed him. "Is the Major really okay? He seemed a little…"

"He's fine." Rodney was suddenly inspired. "You know how I react to certain doom, Lieutenant, and no air, no radio and no escape, well, I think he was just a little punchy from working to keep me from a full-fledged panic attack."

Ford nodded, a little relieved and, as he'd half-expected, a lot as if he'd expected as much from Rodney. "Okay, yeah. That would be a little freaky, I bet. Sleep well, Dr. McKay."

He rolled his eyes unseen and went to the tent. True to his word, John arrived before he'd done more than take set the flashlight up and take off his vest and boots.

"Hi." Almost shyly, and John sat down on his sleeping bag to remove his own.

Rodney contemplated that, decided the hell with it, reached out and grabbed John's shirt to haul him in close for some mouth to mouth exploration. He ended up flat on his back on the sleeping bag, not that he was complaining, with two handfuls of John's ass this time.

Rodney licked his way out of a kiss and hissed, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

John gave him a wounded look. "You started it."

Well, that was true. "I didn't know how enthusiastically you were going to respond," Rodney whispered apologetically.

"Are you nuts?" John frowned at him. "You didn't pick that up earlier?"

"It could have been stress."

John rolled his eyes and put his hand on Rodney's thigh. "I'll show you stress," he murmured and kissed Rodney again.

Well, John was in command, Rodney thought distantly and wished John's hand would move up a little higher. He curled one hand around the back of John's neck and held his head there for a lot of wonderfully messy, lewd, wet kissing, and then worked his other hand under the hem of John's shirt, around his waist to—

And John was suddenly on the other side of the tent, panting a little.

Rodney blinked, leaned up on one elbow and tried to reconstruct the last few seconds. Oh. "Did I hurt you?"

John blinked. "Oh, uh, no. Sorry, I just—" Very embarrassed look.

Rodney blinked back. "Oh, it's still sensitive."

John twitched. "Yeah, I mean, not much, it's just—you know, don't—" He grimaced. "It's not real pretty, Rodney, you know that."

Rodney was totally at sea. "Well, John, you were flogged, it's going to take a while to heal, and you're always going to have the scars."

"Right." John nodded, but there was something weird going on with his expression, or as much of John's expression as he could make out with the weird shadows from the flashlight. "And it looks like shit."

"It's only been a month," Rodney said, completely baffled. "Actually, you know, there's some evidence that vitamin E oil can help with the healing, and I think Carson's got something else that can reduce scarring, I'll ask him when we get back if you like."

John's expression was pensive. "It, uh, bothers me."

Maybe they were getting somewhere. "In terms of being physically sensitive or the idea?"

John twitched again. "Both."

Rodney sighed. "Come here. I won't touch it."

A little hesitation and then Rodney had an armful of what appeared to be warm and relieved Air Force major, doing his damnedest to break regulations. In a two-man tent with several other tents nearby.

Still, kissing, oh, yes, kissing was good, and John certainly had lost the clumsiness and kept the enthusiasm.

"Jesus, Rodney," John finally murmured, a little breathless. Somehow, they'd knocked the flashlight over and Rodney could only see the faint gleam of John's eyes. "If I'd known how you were going to take it this well, I'd have kissed you weeks ago."

"Weeks ago," Rodney repeated and made a serious effort to get enough blood back into his brain so he could convince himself that furtive sex in a two man tent was not a good thing. At the moment, his body was strenuously insisting that it was.

"Weeks ago," John agreed and John wasn't helping, John was squirming closer.

It was useless, Rodney might as well just surrender. "Clothes," he muttered and pushed John's shirt up to investigate further. John's nipples seemed to be fairly sensitive, if the squirming was any indication, and John was not shy about trying to get Rodney's shirt up to return the explorative favor. He sat up to pull off his shirt and John leaned up to help him, ran his palms over Rodney's chest with a little hitch in his breath.

"Weeks ago," John repeated, sounding amazed. "I could have kissed you weeks ago."

"Maybe," Rodney allowed. "Although I'm not sure it would have had quite the same impact on your claustrophobia."

John poked him in the ribs. "I was sort of hoping you'd never mention that again."

"How likely do you think it would be that I'd be to agree to that."

"Probably not likely at all," John said ruefully. "Given all the grief I give you about the coffee and the protein bars."

"Good thinking," Rodney told him and leaned down to kiss him. "So, how far are taking this?"

John hitched in a breath. "All the way?"

Brain short circuit again. When he surfaced from the kiss that followed, John had shucked his own pants and was tugging at Rodney's.

Rodney obliged with that, short of breath and heart pounding, and stretched out with John again, licking his way into John's mouth and putting his fingers in that soft, floppy, dark hair. John's skin was as hot as his, and skin to skin was pretty damn amazing. John shifted and he was suddenly lying on his back with John above him. "Control freak," Rodney murmured and slid his fingertips under John's shirt again. "Why don't you take that off?"

He couldn't see John's expression in the near-darkness, but John straddled him and sat up. After a moment, he pulled the shirt off and leaned down to nip Rodney's lower lip for a moment before moving down his chest. Okay, no complaints there, and he put his hands in John's hair again. John kept shifting down and dear God, was he really going to, yes, oh, God, John's mouth, hot and wet, closed over the head of his cock and John's fingers closed around the base and he had to bite the heel of his hand to keep from making any noise that anybody in camp might hear and correctly interpret as Rodney McKay having sex with Major John Sheppard.

Oh, God, John's mouth was amazing, and while not the most practiced, John was definitely enthusiastic, suggesting that maybe it wasn't his first foray over to the homoerotic side of the street. Which was good, because Rodney would hate to be leading anyone astray, and oh, God, it felt so incredible. He felt all that tension coil at the base of his spine and gasped out something intended to be a warning. John ignored it, but gentled his mouth and tongue and Rodney came, came hard and it was all he could do not to tighten his fingers in John's hair, all he could do to keep his teeth clamped on his hand to stop himself from crying out.

He was panting a little when John shifted back up to kiss him, warm and wet and tasting like Rodney, and that was…hot. Very hot. John was hard against his belly and he rolled them both over and continued the kiss, wrapped his fingers around John and found he was slick, very close to the edge and John made this faint, choked sound into Rodney's mouth and pushed his hips up.

Rodney drew it out a little, holding John back from the edge until John broke away from kissing him and gasped, "Please, and then gripped his shoulders, put his face in Rodney's shoulder and came with a gasp.

More kissing and then John was downright…well, cuddly wouldn't be a word Rodney would use out loud, but really, there was no other word that accurately described it. Rodney couldn't prevent himself from feeling a little smug about that, especially with his own post-coital languour making him want to wrap himself around John's naked body, possibly permanently.

Of course, there was one issue to deal with; Rodney sat up after bit and rummaged around in the pockets of his vest to find the small package of tissues he carried with him on these little field trips, and they were quite sufficient to the clean-up requirements, which made John laugh quietly before hooking his leg over Rodney's hip and leaning into a very satisfying and damn near tender kiss.

"Rodney," John sighed, and rubbed the sole of his foot on Rodney's calf. "Jesus, I sort of hoped, but I was still about half convinced that if you didn't punch me, you'd rip me a new verbally."

"Surprise," Rodney said drily, then, "Sort of hoped?"

John made a faint sound in his throat. "You were so nice to me, you know in the infirmary, and so—well, so pissed off, too, I hoped maybe that meant something besides you were pissed I didn't listen to you about the flogging."

Rodney had always been scornful of people who said things like their 'heart turned over', but it felt precisely like that. He leaned in, nuzzled John's throat. "You moron, I was pissed you didn't listen to me. I thought you were going to be permanently injured or killed and you wouldn't listen. And," he said, going out to the edge of the precipice, "I couldn't stand that, I really couldn't stand that." A flare of the anger from all those weeks ago made itself known and he closed his fingers around John's bicep. "Don't ever do anything that stupid again, John. Ever."

John's fingertips grazed his face. "I won't. I promise. But Rodney, I didn't know what else to do and I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted Ford to go through it either."

"I know." Maybe part of his anger was guilt. He hadn't been there for the negotiations, Teyla had been negotiating with only half the information, and he was going to have to apportion some of the blame to himself for not being present. And John had sent Ford into the temple to look for him. "Just—never again, John. Never."

"Fair enough. But then when I give you good information, you have to listen to me, too."

"As if it mattered, you do whatever anyway." But Rodney kissed John's cheekbone to take any sting out of the words. "Agreed."

"Cool." John touched his face again. "Let's just lie here for a while. It's a warm night, we can do the careful thing later."

Maybe after doing the dangerous thing again, Rodney thought. "In this case, I not only am listening, but agreeing," he said and was rewarded by a chuckle.

It wasn't until later, with John dozing against him, that he found the space to realize that somehow, they'd gone out on the precipice together.

 

Another planet, another mission, and Rodney really never tired of it, even though he occasionally felt guilty about not being in the lab. They were still discovering all kinds of artifacts on the worlds they visited—the reverse would have been unexpected, given the way the Wraith destroyed civilizations—and he still went off following the tracks of older, more technologically sophisticated cultures.

However, he took great care that John actually paid attention to where he was going.

"I'm going beyond that rise, Major," he said and launched into why and what he was chasing, and it never failed, even after months of, well, being involved. John gave him a glazed look and nodded.

"Not into that building, not into the ruins, but over there," Rodney added, his tone pointed.

Ford, Rodney was sure, had started to suspect something, but was evidently supremely unbothered by it. He grinned at Rodney. "Maybe you oughta go with him, Major. Teyla and I can check out the village."

John frowned at Ford. "I'm not sure—"

"Seriously, sir, you can keep him out of trouble." Ford grinned at Rodney again.

John's frown deepened. "There is that," he agreed grudgingly.

"And you won't have to send Ford to look for me," Rodney agreed mildly, "Since I'm not the one who gets myself into trouble."

"Not alone," Teyla said sweetly. "Usually, the Major is with you."

John looked at her, frowned more forbiddingly, and put his sunglasses. "Okay, I'm with Rodney, you're with Teyla, keep in contact, Lieutenant."

Ford grinned, put his own sunglasses on and they sauntered off toward the village.

"I do not get into trouble," Rodney told him quellingly.

"Neither do I," John said, just as quellingly.

"Unless we're together and you get lost. Which is why I personally pay attention to where we're going, because you're hopeless."

"I always pay attention." John grinned suddenly. "I listen carefully to you."

Rodney grinned back. "I've always known you were far more intelligent than you let on."

"I know somebody isn't getting any for a few days," John told him airily. "By which time he'll be even crankier than usual."

"Why, yes, that could very well be." Rodney's tone was judicious.

"Or maybe not," John conceded.

Yes, John Sheppard now listened to Rodney about more than science. Rodney seldom had to venture into heavy-handed sarcasm, but it didn't stop him from the more light-hearted kind. And John hadn't stopped cutting him off on occasion and demanding mono-syllabic summaries.

It was, after all, who they were.


End file.
